Temper
by mediumrawr
Summary: Harry has to make it through yet another year at Hogwarts and the trauma of his godfather's death, so it must be a good thing that Voldemort has been oddly quiet... right? Alternative 6th Year.
1. The Abandoned Van

I am back into this fandom, and I have my share of reservations about that. But this story is coming off incredibly well - since I started writing less than fifty hours ago I've punched out two chapters and finished a chapter of my original novel, in addition to all of my other responsibilities, so we'll see how it goes. It'll be a fun ride. For the record, my pairing leanings are primarily Harry/Tonks, because I'm insane. I suspect that will come out to some degree - in fact, I plan on it - but being as this is primarily an AU sixth-year fic, romance will take a back seat to plot. In the past, I've tried to keep these things short, but I've sort of come to the conclusion that no one really cares if I write in half a screen-full of author's notes, as long as I mark off a separation between these and the actual text, so I'll do that. In the meantime, I'll be happy to answer questions, respond to reviews, whatever. Just don't expect me to give away what's going to happen. Half the time I don't know myself, and the other half I'm not going to tell you.

* * *

Our story begins in England, in a small community in Surrey just north of the River Thames called Little Whinging. It begins across the street from an extremely tidy little house, owned by one Vernon Dursley, a man whose greatest failing was a complete lack of imagination, closely trailed by his total unawareness that this was, in fact, a failing. Vernon Dursley had married some years ago a woman named Petunia, who had aged rather more quickly than she was prepared to accept, and who had taken every measure to prevent it from happening, to no avail. If asked by someone to whom he felt that honesty was more important than appearance – and there were none – Vernon might have admitted that he often felt that this was the source of all of his problems. For Petunia had the misfortune to be sister to Lily Evans, a Muggleborn witch, and had been the less-favored one all of her childhood. Lily Evans lived a happy life where Petunia lived an unhappy one, but Lily's was short, for she was killed at the age of twenty-two, protecting her son, Harry Potter.

This was why Vernon Dursley had been stuck with a wizard child in his house. He had been forced to take the child in – he had not wanted to, for he had a son of his own – a stout young man named Dudley - to raise and, if possible, less than no interest in such things as magic, but he was required to hold the child in. The remains of Harry's first bedroom still remained, in what had been a cupboard under the stairs, a spare cot and not much else to speak of, though he had taken Dudley's second bedroom eventually, as time had gone by. He had taken the child in, indeed, but he had never been forced to love him, and Vernon Dursley's limited capabilities for love were already stretched taut by his wife, his son, and his sister, though he and Marjorie spoke less and less as the years went by.

Across the street, in any case, there was a van. The van had been there since the beginning of the summer, apparently broken down and gathering dust. The doors, especially, seemed to be broken, for they occasionally would open and close themselves, probably in response to the wind, though no one was nearby. Various of the Dursleys' neighbours had placed calls to the local authorities in relation to the strange van, but nothing ever seemed to get done about it. Nor did the Dursleys' ever place a call in this way, because they knew the truth about the van.

So did Harry Potter.

Harry Potter was in possession of a wonderful magical object, quite rare even as magical objects go: an invisibility cloak. Methods of making oneself difficult to see were common in magical circles, from the Disillusionment Charm that made a thing look more appropriate to its environment to the Slippery Sight Potion which, if enough of it could be procured, could cause anything it was painted on to be difficult to look directly at. The invisibility cloak, however, made whatever it covered truly invisible to all but a very few magical detectors.

One day, much like every other day so far that summer, except that on this day more than a month of those days had passed already, Harry Potter grew tired of staring outside the window of what his aunt and uncle still called "Dudley's second bedroom", of being lucky to be ignored by his remaining blood relatives, and of the nighmares that came almost every night. He took out his invisibility cloak, and, though he knew he was not supposed to, he put it on and he used it to sneak out of the house.

He approached the van with care and made sure, from long experience, not to make a sound as he opened the rear door. It was hardly his fault that the door itself creaked as it opened, was it?

The van was, as Harry expected, bigger on the inside. In the midst of a rather disorganized habitat of used take-away parcels and whirring devices was a sitting wizard, though when he heard the door creaked he was standing, facing it, and pointing his wand at it faster than Harry could blink. He was a tall, black man with a single hoop earring, and though he was scowling at present Harry knew he had a warm smile, for Harry knew him.

Very, very carefully, Harry reached up and pulled back the cloak to expose his head. "It's only me, Kingsley."

"Harry?" Kingsley looked suspicious, but a quick check of the various dark detectors satisfied him. "You're supposed to be in the house."

Harry shrugged and lifted himself inside. "I needed to get out, Kingsley."

Though Harry had never been very good at sharing his feelings, Kingsley was well-versed enough to recognize certain emotions even when a brash teenager tried to pretend he did not have them. He did not press the matter. "You can stay tonight, if you like. But only tonight, until you leave."

Harry nodded. Kingsley decided to leave the matter alone and turned back to the detectors that he was supposed to be monitoring. Harry himself took a seat against one side of the van, setting the cloak down beside him with a protective hand over it, and closed his eyes.

He awoke to the sensation of a hand on his shoulder. Harry gasped in a breath as he shoved at the hand as hard as he could and stood. He had already retreated several steps, eyes wide, before he realized where he was, and another step before he saw who had woken him, now fallen awkwardly to the floor. It was the hair that gave it away. "Tonks?"

She righted herself and stood before answering. "Wotcher, Harry." She rubbed at her head, prompting Harry to wonder if she had hit it when he'd pushed her away. "Tense much?"

"Sorry," he offered. He did not particularly want to talk about the reason for his strained nerves, and he rather doubted that his godfather's closest cousin did either. "What time is it?"

"Nine thirty. Moody's taking over for me at ten, and I thought you might want to get out of here before he saw you."

Moody's mad eye would be able to see through the invisibility cloak, Harry knew, and Moody would not be nearly as forgiving as Kingsley had been. "Thanks, Tonks."

"No problem, Harry." Tonks did not bother to watch him gather up the invisibility cloak and slip it around his frame, finding the little . "Just a week until your birthday, Harry. Then you can get out of here."

"Yeah," she heard, and then the door swung open and he was gone.

"That boy hits hard when he wants to," Tonks told a nearby Sneakoscope.

It was three days later when a haughty owl flew in through the window of Dudley's second bedroom, interrupting Harry's studies. He nodded to it pleasantly and took the rolled message it carried. He waved a hand at the owl cage across the room. "There are treats over by Hedwig, if you want one," he said. The owl reproached him with its eyes. "Fine," he said. "Don't have one."

Harry broke the official seal of the Ministry of Magic and unfurled the fine parchment.

_ i Ministry of Magic_

_Wizarding Examinations Authority_

_Ordinary Wizarding Levels Results_

_Certified by Griselda Marchbanks, WEA Director_

_Harry Potter,_

_#1738_

_(if this is not your name and examination number please return to the Wizarding Examinations Authority as soon as possible.)_

_Astronomy: Poor_

_Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding_

_Charms: Outstanding_

_Defense Against The Dark Arts: Outstanding_

_Divination: Acceptable._

_Herbology: Exceeds Expectations_

_History of Magic: Dreadful_

_Potions: Exceeds Expectations_

_Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations /i _

Harry did not bother to read the rest of the notice; the lettering grew ever finer as it trailed down the remaining foot and a half of parchment. He knew what he needed to – he had not managed the necessary Outstanding in Potions, and he would not be able to take the N.E.W.T. class, which was strongly recommended for a career as an Auror.

He glanced back up for the owl that had delivered the message, but it had already gone out the window. He wondered how long it would take for the obvious letter from Hermione Granger to arrive, telling him how incredibly well she had done on all of her classes. The owl that came through the window not ten minutes later, however, was not from Hermione but rather from Hogwarts, bearing the Hogwarts seal upon it. Harry broke the seal open, curious, to find a script that he recognized all too well from the red ink on his Transfiguration papers.

_ i Mr. Potter,_

_During the last year, I made a vow to you that I would help you become an Auror. While that vow may have been made under insufferable distress, I remain the Head of Gryffindor House, and it would hardly be appropriate for me to break a promise made to you. I regret that I have been unable to convince Professor Snape to permit you into his N.E.W.T. Potions class(though he was complimentary of your score, as well as can be – he took care to inform me that 'exceeds expectations' was, in fact, an accurate indicator of your performance on his (O.W.L.). Nevertheless, if you continue to wish to be an Auror following your graduation from Hogwarts, I believe that it remains possible. You will be signing up for your classes shortly. As you know, your career plans will require that you take Defense Against The Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration. I would also strongly recommend Herbology, which will likely be seen by those in Wizard Resources at the Ministry as an appropriate replacement for Potions; many of them have taken classes taught by Professor Snape as well, and may understand the extreme difficulty that obtaining a Potions N.E.W.T. now possesses. Because a fifth N.E.W.T. is required, you would also be advised to take Care of Magical Creatures, though Professor Trelawney made a point of informing me that despite her rather she would be delighted to have you in her class._

_There has been some confusion regarding certain Hogwarts staff positions, so I am unable to provide you with further information regarding other electives. I hope to be of more assistance throughout the next year._

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

_Head of Gryffindor House_

_Professor/Transfiguration,_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry /i _

By the time he had finished, there was another letter from Hermione, confirming that she had in fact received a full eleven O.W.L.s, and one of Ron Weasley soon after, even more excited about the seven he had gotten.

Harry tried to be happy for them.

There were four days until his birthday.


	2. Old Friends

Well, I've had to close down anonymous reviews. That makes me sad, because I usually like it when people decide to review my stories(hint), but I'm afraid that as it has now been abused, I'm going to have to close it down. Those of you with accounts, please do review this.

Thanks go out to those who've reviewed this constructively, **moniteur** and **Shadow High Angel**. You guys have no idea how much it means to me that I know there's an appreciative audience for my fiction. Thank you for your praise and for your advice.

I'm trying to maintain a one-chapter buffer between what I post here and what I've got typed, just so that I can maintain a schedule of some sort even if unexpected delays come along, as they surely will.

In the previous chapter, Harry spent an odd night sleeping in a van.

* * *

So it was that on the final morning of July Harry had packed all of his possessions – there were not that many of them, after all – and stacked his three bags in one corner of his room. Hedwig was gone – Harry had sent him to stay with friends for several days – but the owl's cage sat on the top. He did nothing but wait, for three hours, and try not to think. With the door closed firmly, as the Dursleys insisted, he did not hear the knock on the front door, nor the entrance of the several wizards who made up his protection detail. He easily heard, however, his uncle's scream.

"BOY!"

Harry opened the door of his room and tried not to look too eager as he walked out of it. From the landing he could see Remus Lupin standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking ten years older than he had a few months before, but smiling broadly. "Harry!"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Lupin's exclamation evidently had evoked some sort of clamor down below, and soon several more heads had popped up. "Harry!" they all exclaimed, very nearly in unison. He picked out Hestia Jones and Emmeline Vance from those he knew, and there were two others he didn't know. Before it even occurred to Harry to greet them properly, Remus was already up the stairs and passing Harry on the landing, saying something as he passed about helping Harry with his bags.

Hestia Jones glanced away from Harry and became alarmed. "Harry, I think something's wrong with your uncle! He's turning awfully red..."

Vance patted Hestia's arm maternally. "Not to worry, dear, he looked like that the last time around too, remember?"

"Quite right," said Hestia. "How silly of me."

For the first time in more than a month Harry found himself grinning. There had been no humor to be found with the Dursleys.

"Hey, now his cousin's doing it!" Hestia interjected.

"Must take after his father," Vance said. Hestia nodded.

Harry turned back to his room to get his bags – three bags and an owl cage were too much just for Lupin, after all – and came face to face with his old professor, already headed back down the stairs. They shared a look, and Harry very nearly felt the suction that took the humor from his face. The world of wizards held nearly as many bad memories as good ones these days, and for Lupin there were even more. He gathered up the owl cage and the remaining trunk and carried them downstairs, to find Tonks and Alastair Moody, who was turned directly away from Harry but probably watching him anyway.

"Wotcher, Harry," said Tonks brightly, and Harry noted that she seemed to have been prevailed upon by someone to leave her hair a moderately natural shade of copper and her features very nearly normal, though if the Dursleys bothered to exercise their brains they would be able to link her to the less–"savory" appearance she had taken the last time she had come. When Moody finally turned, Harry saw that that he was even wearing an eyepatch, though that would scarcely stop his eye from seeing. Harry turned at last to his only three remaining relatives, seeing that Dudley and Vernon were indeed looking more and more like radishes as the seconds ticked past, and Petunia grew ever paler. "Harry?" Tonks asked.

Harry realized he hadn't bothered to speak yet. "Hi, Tonks," he said, and then turned back to Hestia and Vance and waved to them too.

"Right," said Moody gruffly. "We've got a – what did Arthur call it?"

"A moat arcade," Hestia supplied.

Moody nodded. "We've got a moat arcade waiting outside, Harry. We should go before it draws too much attention."

"It's a motorcade," said Petunia faintly.

"A what?" asked Moody, not permitting his surprise to betray him.

"A... a motorcade?"

Moody glared right down at Petunia for nearly ten seconds, and just when Petunia seemed like she was going to faint, he brightened. "A motorcade. That makes sense."

As Harry's grin reappeared on his face, Lupin opened the door and revealed that there was, indeed, a motorcade, if a meager one, with two limousines flanked by two black SUVs. "Not exactly the stealth route," he muttered, and Tonks chuckled.

"There are portkeys in the car," she said. "The Ministry stuff's just for show."

"Oh." Harry said, and then "That makes sense."

Before Tonks could offer the appropriate sarcastic response, Moody was pushing Harry out the door, with Hestia managing to slip outside first for a measure of security. He thought he heard Vance tell the Dursleys "We should do this again sometime" before he was shoved inside the rear limousine – which was, predictably, bigger on the inside.

Lupin was already inside, holding in one hand a rather tired-looking top hat. "Grab hold, Harry," he said, and so Harry did, and within a minute the others were also inside the limousine and holding the hat.

There was a pause, and then Moody said "Five," followed by "Four, three, two, one," and Harry felt an all-too-familiar tug just behind his navel before landing on a nice patch of grass. "Wish we could have gotten in closer," said Moody, "but we couldn't risk taking down the wards, even if we knew how."

"Err," said Harry, feeling rather inarticulate. "Where are we?

"Hogwarts, of course," said Tonks. "Well, actually, we're a bit south of Hogsmeade, but we're headed over to Hogwarts."

"I thought we were going to Grimmauld Place."

Moody started walking southward. "Grimmauld Place's insecure for the moment. Dumbledore decided you'd stay at the school instead."

"What - my bags?"

"If nobody attacks the car, they'll be here by tonight."

Ten minutes of walking brought the front gate into view.

Professor McGonagall greeted the small group herself at the entrance to the castle proper. She seemed rather more relaxed than Harry remembered her, though he supposed that a month without having to deal with students might be a good stress reliever, even with Voldemort on the loose. She greeted Harry rather warmly, for her, which consisted entirely of a brief pat on the shoulder as she turned to walk with him. Hestia and Vance made excuses and headed off in the direction of the kitchens, and Moody simply walked away abruptly. Tonks and Lupin followed several steps behind.

"Good afternoon, Potter," she said. "My duties as Deputy Headmistress require rather in-depth management of several parts of the Hogwarts grounds, so I find it convenient to live at the school during the entire year. This is also true for several other teachers, including Professor Sinistra, Professor Sprout and, of course, Hagrid, though he's off on business for Albus at the moment. Besides the ghosts, we are very alone during the summer, and many of us like it that way." Harry felt like she was peering down her square glasses at him, though she had not interrupted her walk nor glanced at Harry even once. "We would be most grateful if you would refrain from getting involved in any adventures at least until the next term has started."

"Yes, Professor."

"Good. Now, for convenience we'll just be moving you into your dormitory early. You'll sleep there. You're free to move about the castle, though of course the usual places are off-limits." She paused her speech, and this time she did stop walking to look directly at Harry. "I am sorry to remind you of this, Potter, but I think we both remember what happens when you charge into places you aren't supposed to be. These places are dangerous, and there are not that many of us here to rescue you if you do something stupid."

Perhaps a year ago Harry would have gotten angry at a statement like that, but instead he simply accepted it. He could not work up the courage to look back at Lupin and Tonks. "I understand, Professor."

"Good. As long as you do that and you avoid disturbing my work and my colleagues' work, you have fairly free reign over the school. You may not leave the school, and I would ask that you keep your explorations of the grounds to a minimum. I would like to make it through this summer without a heart attack. It has been less than two months since my last one, and I am not anxious to repeat the experience."

"Okay."

"Good. If you're clear, I will leave you to make the rest of the trip up to your dorm without me. Hagrid suggested that there was something I should check out, and that probably means that if I don't deal with it soon it will start destroying the grounds."

The humor was lost on Harry, his attention having stalled on her previous statement. McGonagall allowed herself the smallest sniff of disappointment before turning abruptly and brushing past Lupin and Tonks on the way outside.

"Harry?" tried Lupin.

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to talk?"

Harry knew exactly what Lupin was talking about. "Not really."

Suddenly the presence of his godfather's closest friends was unbearable. He tried to strike a balance between rushing away from them and not looking like he was rushing away from them. They did not follow.


	3. The Birthday Party

So... this story is still progressing pretty constantly, though I'm feeling like the writing is going a bit downhill... anyway, my chapter buffer being completed, here's chapter three.

My continuing thanks to my reviewers, to **moniteur** for continuing praise and advice, to **Dragen Ranger** for the praise and the name that's very nearly an anagram, to **Wulffmann **for the praise and the speculation.

As a note, if you're reading this because it's a Harry/Tonks story, that might be a bad idea. The focus of this story is not romance, and I make no promises nor guarantees about how this story is going to end with regards to that relationship. It may develop, it may not. Hey, they might even get together and then break up. No guarantees at all. And I'm not just saying that to be coy. I don't do coy.

I'll try to do at least two chapters a week. No guarantees there either.

* * *

The portrait of the Fat Lady stood empty, but it swung open anyway upon Harry's approach, without even requesting a password. There was, of course, no need for passwords while school was out of session. The common room beyond, which was usually clean even during the school year, was spotless.

He did not bother to take the staircase up to his dormitory, not being tired and having no bags to unpack. In fact, come to think of it, he really had no idea why he had come up to the common room in the first place, except that he had been so anxious to escape the judging eyes of his godfather's friends. His own guilt Harry had been able to manage, but he knew the longer he stayed with them the more he would have to feel the inescapable truth that he was in part responsible for the death of his godfather.

There were three armchairs arranged around the fireplace; Harry collapsed into the leftmost one and, on cue, the wood in the fireplace began to burn. "Magic," Harry muttered, nearly smiling.

"Yeah," he heard behind him, and turned his head to see Tonks standing just inside the portrait hole. "My dad always talks like that when he sees magic."

"Tonks," he said as greeting, and then turned back to the fire.

"I get that you don't want to talk to me. To tell the truth, it's a bit hard for me to talk to you, too. I just forgot to tell you that because today's your birthday there's going to be a bit of a party for you tonight, down in the Great Hall. If, I mean, if you want. I can still give the Weasleys a call and tell tell them you'd-"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't guilt me, Tonks."

"Look," he heard her say, "All I am saying is that a lot of people will be disappointed if you don't come to this party and at least pretend–"

"I said don't guilt me!" Harry had no idea how he had come to be standing, but he had not turned. The fire flared up suddenly, and Harry closed his eyes. There had been a spike of something, then, when he had allowed himself to scream. Something in his head. He already knew that his intense anger could provoke magic in other situations; he simply had not realized he had been that angry.

He turned to face Tonks and did not apologize. She showed neither anger nor surprise – rather, her expression was appraising. "It's your birthday, Harry."

"I'll be there. Now go away."

The windows of Gryffindor Tower were in a castle's style, and so were thin and high, the better for shooting arrows from. But they were windows nonetheless, and through them Harry could see the light growing dimmer and redder. His anger had faded with the light and was now buried, unmarked, next to his guilt. It was the only way to deal with it.

His bags had not yet arrived. Moody had been spectacularly uncaring about them – another thing he buried – and Harry was left unable to do anything about his only earthly possessions but wait for them to arrive. Perhaps it was boredom more than anything else that compelled Harry to leave the common room to see if his party had started yet.

It was rather a long walk, actually, down six flights of stairs located in obscure portions of a very, very large castle, and Hogwarts had never seemed quite so large as when it was deserted. He could hear the whispers of the portraits that lined so many of the halls behind him, though none of them bothered to talk to him. He was not in much of a mood to talk to them, anyway.

The doors of the Great Hall were open, and the transparent ceiling would have revealed the constellations above, now that the sun had set, had the clouds not been in the way.

Of the five tables, three were missing. Perhaps the House tables had been packed away for the summer, and the fourth, the Gryffindor table, had only been put out for the occasion. The house-elves had been overenthusiastic in their preparations. There was a feast put out along the table, and a floating chandelier burned brightly above it.

Standing in the great open space left by the absence of the tables of three houses were so many of Harry's friends. Of the Weasley family, all of the children except for outcast Percy were there, and the mighty matron as well. Arthur, apparently, had not come. McGonagall had come as well, and so had Professors Sinistra and Sprout, though Harry barely knew either of them. In the moments before they saw him, Harry speculated that they had heard there was a party and come for that, and not for him.

Lupin and Tonks were both still present, and were mingling with Kingsley and several other members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, only a few of whom Harry recognized. Standing in one corner, waving idly at something visible only to her, was Luna Lovegood.

"Oy!" He heard, from a voice that could have belonged either to Fred or George Weasley.

And then, from the other twin, "Harry's here!"

The Hall exploded with a sudden clamor of voices, and Harry had to exercise his will not to let it push him as far away as he could run. Within a few seconds the need for willpower was gone, for he had been enveloped by a hug from Molly Weasley.

"Mom," he heard Charlie Weasley say – for he could not see anything with Mrs. Weasley engulfing him – "Let him breathe."

"Right," said Mrs. Weasley, and the veil over the world was lifted. Harry saw that most of those present had gathered around him, though Luna was watching him from the same place in the corner, and Sprout and Sinistra stood together, watching the commotion.

Ron pushed past his mother and shoved Harry in the chest, smiling brightly. "Harry!"

"Ron," he said, trying to get a grip on his situation. "So you're okay?"

"Yeah," he said, though his smile faded a little. "Hermione says scars are manly, so I guess I'm fine."

Ginny shoved in next to Ron as Harry realized that in the Weasley family everyone had to do a lot of shoving to get attention. "Hermione's been saying a lot of things are manly about Ron recently."

Harry looked at Ron. "You guys-"

"No," Ron said, his smile having disappeared entirely. "We're not. Ginny's been bloody–"

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"Sorry, Mom. Anyway, Ginny's been pestering me all summer about Hermione."

Ginny said, at precisely the same pitch her mother had used, "She was saying how much she loved his Quidditch game! Come on!"

"Where is Hermione?" asked Harry.

Sudden silence.

Luna said, her voice distant, from her corner, "Her parents don't want her to come back."

Harry looked over at Ron, who said nothing. His face was grim. He looked at Ginny, and then at Mrs. Weasley, who nodded at him sympathetically. "Hermione would come anyway," Harry said with certainty. "Maybe she had to miss the party, but she'll be at school."

Ron nodded, and Ginny said "That's what I said."

McGonagall smiled. "Quite right, Potter. Now, the house-elves have been cooking very enthusiastically for some time, so you have quite a bit of food to eat, and I believe that afterwards your friends have brought presents for you to open."

"Indeed," said someone behind Harry – someone whose voice Harry recognized but which he would not, in several million years, have expected to hear at his birthday party. "If I may," it said, as if it resented the very idea of having to stoop to such politeness, "I would like to speak to Mr. Potter in private first, however."

Harry turned, noting the looks of sympathetic dread on the faces of the Weasley children, and beheld the pallid face of Severus Snape.

"Of course, Severus," McGonagall said, "But please don't be too long."

"I have no intention of it," said Snape. "Potter."

Harry obediently followed Snape back out of the Great Hall. Several meters away, Snape turned suddenly, leaned down very close to Harry's face, and frowned. "I am here only because this party is being covered up as a meeting of the Order. That is the only reason. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Harry, who had been rather hoping that not taking Potions would mean freedom from dealing with Snape.

"Good. First, Dumbledore has seen fit to cancel your Occlumency lessons. I think neither of us will be particularly disappointed by that, although you do leave yourself woefully exposed without mental shields. Nevertheless, 'ours not to question why' is often the appropriate motto when it comes to Dumbledore."

Harry had had precisely that feeling.

"There is another matter, Potter. It has to do with your performance in the class that I _officially_ teach."

"Yes?" Harry was beginning to get the feeling Snape had carefully rehearsed this beforehand.

"You will, of course, not be taking N.E.W.T. level Potions next term. Your grades were not good enough for that. However, they were far better than I expected, and I have spent some time considering this. I may have underestimated you, Potter."

Harry's eyes went as wide as saucers. There was a pregnant pause.

Suddenly Snape went off-script. "Potter, you look so much like your father, and I never once considered you might have inherited more than your mother's eyes. I did her a disservice in doing so."

Snape's black robes swirled around him as he retreated back to the Great Hall. Ron came out as soon as Snape was well clear. "What's going on?"

Harry said "I think Hell's frozen over."

"What, did he apologize to you or something?"

"I think..." Harry paused, rubbing his temple, to think. "He apologized to my mother."

Before Ron had a chance to answer, the great doors of the Entrance Hall swung open. Just beyond the door stood a barely-recognizable Arthur Weasley, a bright red gash running across his chest, his left arm hanging lifeless. He rushed straight toward Ron, and just as he stumbled Ron caught his arms. "Percy..." he whispered. "Percy's... Ministry. Atta-"

And then Mr. Weasley collapsed.


	4. Fallen Friends and Foes

Sorry for the delay. Couldn't be helped. Simultaneous problems involving personal health and family, plus computer issues to top it off. Chapter buffer remains intact.

For the record, the stuff I write often crosses the line between _dark_ and _vicious_. Yes, there's plenty of humor now, but I'm also the kind of writer who only keeps characters alive so long as they're useful, and it's already planned that the second half of this story will be _extremely_ dark. Bad things will happen. Just so you know.

* * *

Mr. Weasley hit the ground and the reaction was instant. His mother was the first to his side, and she was crying out, though with the sudden clamor of other voices Harry could not make out her words. McGonagall had brushed past the whole group straight to Harry. Her face filled all of his vision. "What did he say?"

"An attack at the Ministry, I think-"

But McGonagall was gone already, and Lupin and Tonks brushed past Harry in their haste to follow her. He felt something grab hold of his wrist, and realized he was being dragged along after them. More from the Order followed him, but neither Ron nor Luna did; indeed, both were standing unnaturally still, staring at Mr. Weasley.

Harry glanced forward again, needing to get his balance, and realized that the hand on his arm belonged to Tonks, who was not sparing him any more of her attention than that grip.

"Tonks?"

She did not answer as they ran out onto the grounds, nor did she answer his repetitions of her name for several minutes afterwards, until they reached the first buildings of Hogsmeade and stopped.

"What's he doing here?" Lupin asked.

"I thought he could help!" Tonks said, and Harry realized suddenly that the Order of the Phoenix had its own circles of power and authority, and that Lupin's circle was higher than Tonks's. Tonks turned to McGonagall then, whose authority was near to highest, and said "If we leave him out of this stuff, he's only going to try to go off on his own adventures later!"

There was a thoughtful pause, and then McGonagall nodded. "Fine. We should be clear of the wards, so from here we're Apparating into the Ministry. We'll go to the Atrium and go from there. Any questions?"

"Where's Snape? asked Harry.

"We'll explain later," said Lupin impatiently. Then Tonks grabbed Harry's shoulder and everything went dark.

The world came back into focus in much the same way as it would have had Harry been opening his eyes, though Harry was quite certain he had not had time to close them in the first place. He recognized the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic from the two parallel walls lined with deserted fireplaces. At the very end, beside the Golden Gates that led into the Ministry proper, was the small security stand where Eric Munch had registered wands the day before. It stood deserted.

McGonagall appeared with a faint pop several meters away, and several more of his new companions appeared around him with a sound a bit like rolling thunder. "Wand out, Harry," said Tonks, her hand leaving Harry's shoulder, and Harry obediently grabbed the small holly rod from his back pocket. McGonagall was already storming toward the gates, and Tonks shoved Harry forward after her.

Harry barely had time to realize that she'd changed her hair color to a bright cyan. He did not bother to wonder about that. There wasn't time. By providence there was a lift waiting open for them, and when the last of their little company had piled in a pleasant female voice said "To Level One".

Soft music hummed for forty-five seconds. Lupin said "Something's wrong."

"Level One. Administration. Minister's Office." The pleasant voice said, and the lift door opened.

Level One had been an administration level. Now it was mostly a pile of rubbish, where cardboard barriers had fallen and desks had toppled. There was at least one body outstretched across the mess. Harry did not recognize him. It was Hestia Jones who checked his pulse, and Harry could tell by the way the red-faced witch suddenly paled that the wizard was dead.

There was an awful lot of blood.

McGonagall made straight for an office directly across from the lift, labeled in gold:

MINISTER FOR MAGIC

CORNELIUS OSWALD FUDGE

Harry followed, because it seemed like the thing to do.

The body outside had been only a prologue. Four masked, black-clad men lay near the door, only one still breathing. A fifth, evidently female, had made it all the way to the front of Fudge's desk but had also fallen lifeless, blood pouring from her neck. Seated against the side of the desk, breathing hard, was Percy Weasley, with a gash across his left eye that had forced it shut. Just visible behind the desk was the dead body of the Minister for Magic, bearing the plain frozen look left by the Killing Curse.

"Death Eaters," Harry said, rather obviously. Lupin came up from behind him and began to unmask the five figures one by one. Harry recognized only one of the men, and even then only by the family resemblance he bore to Gregory Goyle. Many of the others he also knew by sight, but not by name. The one who still lived was one of these.

The woman was Narcissa Malfoy, whose family had always been among the most prominent supporters of Lord Voldemort. Her death meant that the only one of the family left unapprehended was Draco Malfoy. "It was the Drawing-Pin Hex," babbled Percy. "I never meant to kill her. But she'd just killed Fudge, and it was always one of my better spells..."

Harry suddenly felt as if he was intruding on a distinctly personal moment.

"He did the others, though. I think they thought he was worthless, like everyone else. He wasn't worthless. He was a good man. He just – he just always felt a bit jealous of the wizards who were even better."

It was McGonagall who knelt in front of Percy and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need you to focus. Are there any others?"

"Five," he said. "I saw five. I was taking dictation, and the Minister told me to go out and see what the disturbance was, and when I went out they were just blasting everything and everyone was screaming. I counted five of them and then I lost my courage."

Harry's mind detached from the conversation. He focused for the first time on what Lupin had said in the lift. "Something's wrong."

"What?" asked Tonks, just a step from the office.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said, suddenly understanding. "He would work on Level Two, wouldn't he? In the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" He did not wait for the assent. "If he knew something was wrong, why-"

"Good work, Potter," said McGonagall, who was already heading back to the lifts.

Lupin evidently cared less about the architectural integrity of the building, for he just pointed his wand at a point on the ground and shouted "_Eruptio!_" The floor exploded upward, spraying rubble across the room and at several of the Order members.

"You could warn us first" Tonks muttered, brushing pieces of flooring hurriedly out of her hair. Lupin had already jumped down to the next floor, and she followed him down much less gracefully. Harry waited for her to pick herself up off the floor before jumping himself. The distance was rather longer than he had expected, and his knee jarred when it hit the ground.

He looked up and saw a battleground. In front of him, three more of the masked Death Eaters stood, and beyond them and the rubble that they had been using as cover was most of the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry had less time to analyze the situation than he might have wanted, for the Death Eaters were already turning toward him.

So Harry raised his wand toward the rightmost of them and said "_Palpite!_" The man's wand dropped out of his fingers as his whole body started to shake uncontrollably. He turned to the middle one, but was hit suddenly by the force of a spell and found himself sprawled across the ground.

Fortunately, it seemed Tonks and Lupin could handle themselves, for when he managed to roll his eyes toward the action the last Death Eater was just falling, and there was a shimmering that Harry remembered from the end of his practices with the Shield Charm. Then all of the Ministry's Aurors and Hit Wizards came out into the open to see what happened, just as McGonagall finally arrived from the lift she had foolishly taken. Harry still could not stand, nor move much of his body; he suspected he might have been hit by the same curse that he had used.

Then he felt someone lift him up, and he was carried swiftly away.

"At least a dozen total," said someone Harry thought was Hestia Jones.

"Smart strategy," said Tonks's voice, much closer.

"Too smart," said Lupin. "He's never done this kind of strategy before."

They came to a stop, and Harry recognized the walls of the lift.

"What happened to Harry?" asked McGonagall. Harry wondered why she insisted on calling him 'Potter' to his face.

"Jellied," said Tonks. "He'll have his muscles back in a few minutes."

"Good," said McGonagall. "Did you recognize any of the Death Eaters?"

"No," said Lupin.

"Yes," said Tonks. "But they were all back-benchers except for Goyle, and even he wasn't exactly You-Know-Who's closest advisor."

"They were expendable, then," said McGonagall, "He expected to lose."

"Fudge was the target," said the voice of Vance, who Harry had forgotten was present.

"Why? Fudge was useless. He's been holding us up since the beginning!"

"It's a message," Lupin said bleakly. "He's saying he can take out anyone he wants."

Harry had a sudden bleak feeling, as he realized that Voldemort had killed everyone he had ever loved, and was more powerful than ever. Harry's mother was the only one who had ever hurt him. He felt control of his muscles returning as he realized that these people, his friends, spent most of their time hiding. Nobody except him had even tried to hurt Voldemort in years.

There was a sound like a bomb exploding far away. The lift shook, and everyone in it fell to the floor.

"Bloody hell," said Tonks. "What was that?"


	5. Caesar, Son of Caesar

Last time around I didn't thank anyone - I was kind of in a rush to get that chapter up and posted. Truth be told I don't much like the process has for posting chapters; it's overcomplicated and it just plain takes too long, and it stifles my creativity when I'm pausing every so often to do this long, drawn out, seemingly pointless process. But I digress.

Anyone, a big thank you to all my reviewers, to Wulffmann, to AutumnKate, to Shadow High Angel, and to Vegetto, for helping me to feel as if real people are actually reading this. Anyway, I'm sorry if the last chapter had you guys thinking something big was happening - I'm afraid we're still in the exposition, at this point. And I didn't really mean for that to be a cliffhanger, either.

I've finished six chapters(including the buffer chapter), and we're about a month into the story. At this rate this story'll be something like sixty chapters long and be done next year. That's a terrifying thought. Especially if there's a sequel. And I do so love sequels.

Oh, and hey. Ten useless points to anyone who understands why I named this chapter the way I did, and ten useless points to anyone who gets the persistent reference to another fandom in this fic. There's only one, don't worry.

* * *

Nobody knew what that odd explosion had been. They all scoured news reports afterward, but if anyone else had noticed the explosion, it was buried so far under the news of the incident – for that was how it was being termed – at the Ministry of Magic that neither Harry nor anyone else he knew could find it.

Harry heard McGonagall and the few Aurors in the Order discussing the incident. Apparently they had decided the Death Eaters had worked together to keep the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement imprisoned on their own floor by maintaining Shield Charms while a small group went up to take out Minister Fudge.

McGonagall had seemed especially worried. "The Headmaster agrees with me. He-" she had said, using the tone of voice that indicated it was certainly _not_ the Headmaster she was talking about– "never used this kind of strategy before. He used to always just attack anybody who pissed him off. This-" She broke off suddenly, as if the concept was almost too horrible to bear thinking on, and Harry rarely heard anger enter his words. "This was subtle."

Usually, however, the other members of the Order were careful not to let Harry hear their conversations on those issues – or any other issues of importance. In fact, just about the only news that Harry got afterwards was that both Percy and Mr. Weasley were expected to recover.

Harry opened his birthday gifts alone, the day after his birthday. Hermione had managed to sneak a gift to him through the Weasleys in a letter sent to them, or so she said in the rather extensive note she sent him. She was very frank about her parents decision to keep her from Hogwarts, but also about her own determination to return no matter what they said.

Harry had a strange feeling Hermione was willfully ignoring the facts of the matter with regard to magical law. If parental consent had been required for him to go to Hogsmeade on weekends, he suspected that it was also required to go to Hogwarts in the first place.

Her gift was composed of books, as usual, that Harry doubted he would ever read.

There was a gift from Ron, of course, books that were slightly more interesting, about Quidditch, chess, and even one titled _Tactical Introduction to Exploding Snap_. Having played Exploding Snap a few times before, Harry failed to see how there could possibly be any tactics to anything even remotely related to Exploding Snap. Mostly one just hoped really hard they didn't end up with first-degree burns.

Ron's note was somewhat shorter than Hermione's. "_Happy birthday,_" it said, "_--Ron._"

There was no gift from Hagrid. According to the note, Dumbledore had convinced Hagrid that a gift would be unnecessary. Harry found himself exceedingly grateful for that, having rather enough scars already.

Moody had seen fit to get him a new dragonhide wand holster. Lupin had thought a box of chocolates would make an excellent gift, and it probably would have if he hadn't been living a short walk from the Hogwarts kitchens. There was even a gift from Tonks near the bottom of the pile, which upon unwrapping turned out to be an empty wooden box.

There was an accompanying note, written in nearly unreadable handwriting:

_"Harry-–_

_It's bigger on the inside. Comes in handy sometimes._

_--Tonks."_

Harry looked at the box again. It did not look like it had been magically expanded, but then, things which had been rarely did. He waved his hand around inside it. It was definitely not bigger on the inside.

Harry shrugged it off. If anyone would have made a mistake like giving Harry an ordinary empty box instead of a magically expanded one, it would have been Tonks. Looking at his pile of gifts, Harry ended up feeling as if the entire process of receiving gifts had been totally useless. It was still better, he supposed, than the ten years he had gone with no matter than clothes hangars and old socks as gifts.

Still, he found himself feeling disappointed.

It seemed that everything went back to normal, as normal as everything could be, after that. Harry found over the next two weeks that most of the school's portraits and resident ghosts(of whom there were evidently far more of than those who dared to show their faces during the year) possessed rather more interesting lives than he had ever thought to imagine before. The Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, and Ravenclaw's Grey Lady had evidently tried out a romance two dozen years ago that neither had truly gotten over. This was still a major topic of discussion among the various quasi-living residents of Hogwarts, because, as a rather kindly old woman in a huge landscape painting on the fourth floor explained, ghosts almost never established new romances. "They're not the type, you see. It's the difference between being proactive and reactive. Proactive people pursue romances. Reactive people become ghosts."

Harry thought that might have been oversimplifying matters a little bit, but he did have to wonder which kind he was.

He found that he rather liked the solitude he had over the next two weeks. As the portraits and the ghosts and the statues all became used to his presence, they all settled down into a companionable silence around him. The few times Harry ran into professors, their conversations tended to be polite, civil, and very brief.

Two weeks before the beginning of the next school year the other professors began to move back into the school. Professor Snape was the first to move back in, and when he caught Harry sitting in the hall watching he immediately ordered him to help bring in all of his new stores of Potions ingredients. Harry did without complaint, and though Snape still, predictably, made Harry carry all of the heaviest and most delicate cases, and still snapped at him whenever he gave even the slightest hint that he might so much as wobble them, but he was oddly civil, and when Harry put down the last case he could have sworn he heard Snape mutter a sort of thank-you.

The next day he was sure he was mistaken. That day Flitwick moved back in. Flitwick hardly needed Harry's help moving his things back in, though he did give Harry a courteous half-bow as they passed, all of his little things bobbing downward in the air from where they were hovering behind him.

Professor Trelawney certainly did need help – and carrying her things for her was not going to solve that problem. Where previously she had seemed to take immense joy out of her life and out of her frequent, questionable predictions(even those predicting certain doom), Harry suspected now that the job teaching Divinations was the only thing she had, and as she carried her one small trunk up to her classroom and the office above Harry thought she seemed smaller and older even than Flitwick. Feeling rather sorry for her, he went to her to offer help, but she only glared at him.

"Get away from me!" she hissed. "Don't touch me! You hurt everyone you touch!"

Harry jerked away in shock. There was a thought he could not stop from filling his mind: _How dare she–_

There was a crash. Harry looked back and realized that Trelawney's trunk had burst in half, all of her things spilling across the hall. Harry looked at the wreckage for three, then four seconds, and then turned and walked away.

Harry heard Tonks before he saw her. There was a bench along the wall of a nice extended landing that overlooked the Entrance Hall. It was a reminder of the days when Hogwarts had been a castle first, and not a school. Having such a spot from which archers and crossbowmen could fire right into the main entrance would be ideal as a second line of defense. Harry rather liked the feeling that he always knew who was in the castle, and besides that it was as good a place as any for him to spend his days. Because the railing obscured sight somewhat, neither he nor Tonks saw the other when he heard her trip at the entrance.

"Hello?" He called out cautiously, standing up to see better. It was indeed Tonks, and then behind her he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt again, and what looked like Moody behind him too.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks said loudly. "Good to see you!"

Harry noticed that she seemed to have tripped over one of the large, ornate doorknobs, from the way that it was still rattling about a little bit too loosely. How she had managed to trip over something at elbow-height was beyond Harry's understanding. Kingsley made a comment that Harry couldn't hear, but it must have been about the same topic because Tonks replied in a voice Harry definitely could hear: "Well I always bloody hated those doorknobs. I think Charlie must have cursed them against me after we broke up or something, because–"

Moody interrupted her with something that was only audible as a growl from Harry's distance. Harry quickly walked down the remaining stairs to meet the three Aurors. "What're you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too," Tonks said, grinning.

Kingsley cracked a smile. "The Board of Governors decided that Hogwarts needed a permanent security team on-site because of You-Know-Who."

"And when a couple of Aurors happened to go on extended leave right when they were deciding who to hire..." Tonks said, sounding a bit like Fred and George did when they were trying to convince Harry to try one of their new treats.

"Right," Harry said, smiling. "You three are going to guard the whole castle?"

"Well, Harry," Kingsley said, with a tone that could have been patronizing but thankfully was not, "I said the Board of Governors decided Hogwarts needed a permanent security team, not that they were willing to adequately fund one."

Even Moody smiled at that one before trudging past them. "Been ages since I've been here. Minerva said we should set up in the Defense hallway for now. That's... up these stairs, and then two lefts and up those stairs too?"

Tonks said "It's not that hard to figure out where you're going when you've got a bloody magic eye, Moody."

And then they were trudging past him.


	6. Mister Cellophane

I apologize for the delay. I had no idea what I was doing with the next chapter for a while. Then I finally got started writing it and it turned out to be by far the most important chapter so far. As for this chapter... well, it's sort of a break. Advancing the plot through slightly more sedate methods than I'm used to.

A big thank you to my reviewers, **moniteur** and **Shadow High Angel**. While I wouldn't say I'm taking requests from reviewers, I won't deny that I'm influenced by what people say they want, and I don't have the end entirely planned out yet(especially when it comes to how the Harry/Tonks relationship works out). Please note that I while will **never, ever blackmail readers for reviews with the threat of withholding chapters**, I do write for attention and I would love to hear what everyone thinks.

* * *

As the beginning of the school year loomed Harry noticed two alarming absences from the school grounds. The first was the new Defense teacher. Harry had absolutely no idea who it was going to be. He asked Tonks about it, but she'd just said "I'm not exactly the Human Resources department, Harry."

So he had gone to McGonagall. She had been only slightly more forthcoming: "The Headmaster has found an excellent teacher, Potter. There is no need to concern yourself with it."

The other was rather odder. Dumbledore himself still had not appeared. In fact, Harry had not seen Dumbledore since the beginning of the summer. But McGonagall was refusing to say anything about it, and Tonks had said she had not seen him either. "Matter of fact, he wasn't with the Board of Governors when they hired us. McGonagall was standing in for him. She says he's been really busy with something." Out of curiosity, he had sought out a few others, but Moody, Flitwick, and the nice old lady in the landscape painting had all been no help.

"Oh, over here we talk about it all the time," the old lady had said, "All of the old Headmasters are worried sick, you know. Dear Everard was telling me that the Headmaster used to visit every two weeks, even in the summer, but he hasn't been in since term ended."

A week before school was scheduled to begin, someone did arrive that Harry had not been expecting. It was Hermione. She did not come in by the Entrance Hall while Harry was watching from the hidden landing. She came in while Harry was sleeping. He became aware of this only because she woke him up by shaking him. "Hermione?" He asked, once he'd found his glasses and pushed them onto his face.

"Good evening, Harry," she said, and Harry might have thought from her tone of voice that everything in the world was normal if only her voice had not cracked right at the end.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, feeling a little proud that he had managed to hold back the obvious and stupid question _what are you doing here?_ to ask a marginally smarter one.

"Oh, well," she said, evidently relieved to be back on a topic she was comfortable with. "I was always curious why when you're outside you can see that balcony on Gryffindor Tower but there's no door to get out there, and it turns out that part of the wall there is actually an illusion and you can just walk right out. It is a bit of a drop down to the stairs, though, think I scuffed my knees, but I don't think anybody saw me, and-"

Harry interrupted. "Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"How did you get up to the balcony?"

"Oh, well, I took a broom from a broom shed outside and flew up there."

"But you hate flying."

Hermione turned to look straight into Harry's eyes, looking focused in a way that even her researching did not match. "Harry," she said, "if my friendship with you has taught me anything at all, it's that sometimes we have to do what we're afraid of."

"But," he said, momentarily forgetting that it was the middle of the night in the sixth-year boys' dormitory and that he was half-naked, "I thought your parents didn't want you to come back."

"Well of course they don't! Why else would I be sneaking back into the school a week early instead of taking the train with everyone else!"

"But... don't you need your parents to agree to let you go?"

Hermione looked away suddenly. "Do I-I didn't even think of that! Hang on, let me check the book. I know I packed it because I was going to do some light reading over the summer. It was..." she trailed off, apparently realizing she was rambling, and dove into a small bag that Harry had not previously noticed. After pulling out far more than could reasonably have fit in the bag, including perhaps ten or eleven books, she finally stumbled across what she was looking for. Harry got sight of the title. _Code of English Magical Law, Title 11: Magical Education_.

"You're going to search that whole book for one rule, right now?" Harry asked faintly.

"Relax, Harry," Hermione placated. "If there's a rule like that, I'm sure it will be near the beginning."

"Right," he said. "I'll just... pop off down to the kitchens and nick something. You want anything?"

"Yeah," said Hermione, already buried in the book. "I had to leave last night. Haven't had anything to eat since lunch yesterday."

It was rather later when he finally returned. Hermione was sitting against a wall, looking up at the ceiling vacantly. The book was still sitting on her lap from where she had been reading. It appeared to have been suddenly ripped in half. "Dobby was working in the kitchens," he offered lamely. "I was lucky to get away with just a salad, a full chicken, and about a dozen biscuits."

"You were right," she said flatly. "I'm not allowed to go."

Harry nodded. "Well, that's a thick book. Maybe there's an exception later on."

Hermione looked down at the book. The prospect of finding solutions through further research was a guaranteed motivator for her. "You think so?" she said.

"Dunno. But I've got food and you've got the book."

"Right," she said, determination back in her voice. She took one ripped part of the book and tossed it over toward Harry's feet. "You can take that half."

As the sun rose, however, Hermione's confidence was fading. She finished the last bite of the last drumstick, turned over the last page of the first half of _Title 11_, and sighed. "There's nothing in this half, Harry. Nothing even remotely relevant."

Harry shrugged, . "I'm only halfway done, Hermione. Maybe there's something near the end."

Hermione shook her head. "Go back to sleep, Harry. I'll check the end of the book."

"Hermione-"

"I read faster than you, Harry. It only makes sense that I be the one to do the reading."

Harry had started to understand when talking to Hermione was going to be less productive than talking to a brick wall. He gave up and went back to bed.

When Harry woke again noon had come and Hermione had gone. It turned out that she was waiting in the common room. She looked like she had not fallen asleep, which, by Harry's count, meant that she had been awake for at least forty-eight hours. She must have noticed him coming down the stairs, though she did not look up, because she said "There's no exception."

Harry stopped moving. He had been fairly sure beforehand that there wouldn't be one. "Oh," he offered lamely.

"There's only one thing for it," she said finally.

"There is?" he said, feeling rather left behind.

"I'll just write my parents and tell them that I'm not going home even if they don't let me come, so they might as well let me go to school so I'm not all on my own."

"And they'll go for that?"

"Probably." Hermione shrugged. "They might think I'm bluffing."

Harry had no idea whether she was bluffing or not, but decided it was probably a bad idea to ask her. "Okay, but you're still not supposed to be here for another week."

Hermione shrugged. "I can stay in the Room of Requirement for a week. It'll be easy. It'll have everything I need."

"Well," Harry said, "It is the Room of Requirement, after all. But no one can see you go there."

"There's no one here, Harry," Hermione said matter-of-factly, "It's the middle of summer."

"If the portraits see you, they'll tell McGonagall." Harry frowned. "You'll have to take my invisibility cloak."

"Are you sure? Harry, it's-"

"You need it more than I do, Hermione, so you'll take it."

That evening, Harry went down from Gryffindor Tower to meet Hermione. Harry thought it rather unlikely that he would happen to stumble on both Tonks and Moody 'just doing routine inspection', but it did happen. "And what are you doing here?" Tonks asked.

"Just wandering," Harry said. Neither of the Aurors seemed particularly convinced, so he tried over-elaborating. "I don't really have anything else to do. I don't have any summer work 'cause last year was OWL year, and I was helping some of the teachers but now everyone's set up, I mean, except the new Defense teacher, because he hasn't come in yet, but except for that mostly I just wake up, eat, wander around, eat again, do some more wandering... sometimes I even eat again after that, and then I go to sleep. I thought today I'd try to figure out if there was some sort of pattern to that staircase over by the Charms wing that nobody uses because it's gone crazy, but-"

"Enough!" Moody exclaimed finally. Harry stopped and caught his breath. Moody continued, "Good liar, you are."

"Well, it's like you always taught us," said Tonks, turning to face Moody, grinning. "Practice makes perfect." Moody nodded his agreement, but just when Harry thought they were going to try to press him for the truth, Tonks abruptly changed the subject. "So, Harry, how'd you like that birthday gift I got you?"

Harry was immensely grateful for the change in subject – and he had been meaning to find a polite way to bring that topic up with her anyway. "Well, it sounds pretty cool, but the thing is, uh, are you sure it actually was, er, bigger on the inside?"

Tonks frowned. "I checked right before I wrapped it. I put some stuff in, took it out, put the false bottom in, closed it up, and-"

Moody interrupted. "Did you tell him about the false bottom?"

"What? Everyone knows-"

"He's a civilian. Just because all of your other friends have Auror training-"

"Not all of them-"

"Sorry." Moody turned back to Harry. "I forgot about the bartenders."

"Hey!"

Harry tried to cover up the sudden embarrassment he felt at not having found the false bottom by laughing.


	7. Socks To Be You

A new chapter, and, yes, the chapter that changes everything. I remember trying to figure out what to do with this chapter, and then looking at my plot threads and going "Oh! Well that's easy." Anyway, the chapter buffer being intact, the next chapter contains the first obviously Harry/Tonks sequence, though that could still go wherever. And that's all I'm telling you about this so far.

By the way, when I said 'looking at my plot threads' I meant it. For any sufficiently complicated story, the only way I can keep track of everything that's going on is to keep a notecard or a text file somewhere with updated notes of what's going on with every character and every subplot and where I want that one to go.

Anyway, reviewers! My thanks to my Chapter 6 reviewers, **tfm**, **The PhantomHokage**, **Darkness in the Light**, and **cjcold2**, who offered up interesting thoughts and bits of speculation. Never fear, that thing about Hermione will be resolved. And yes, that particular thread is going somewhere. I think. Once again, reviews are my motivation, my inspiration, and my muse, and it means so much to me that all of you guys - probably mostly gals, actually, statistically speaking - care enough to leave me good comments. Thanks. To everyone else: tell me what you think! Be honest! I like to know when I've screwed up. Okay, that's a lie, but tell me anyway. It'll be good for my writing.

--

Noon approached. Harry had spoken at length to Hermione during the morning, chiefly because neither of them had anything better to do. Even Hermione, it seemed, could not spend a full week doing absolutely nothing but studying, no matter which interesting tomes the Room of Requirement supplied for her. Harry knew she did not want him to know how relieved she was each time he came in to talk to her; she had chosen to turn away from her family, and Harry knew that, left without company, she would feel not simply alone, but as if she were the reason she was alone. Harry knew that from experience, and he knew that train of thought ran down a very dark track.

This evening the students were to arrive. Harry had very nearly lost track of time, in truth, but he had been reminded of it by McGonagall, in passing. "I imagine you'll be glad to see your friends again, Potter," she said, in a voice that was warmer than it had been since simpler days.

Yet it was only noon, and Harry found himself sitting in the Great Hall, watching the house elves set up a meal, feeling completely bored.

Surely enough, this was precisely when he was interrupted. It was Tonks, who entered the Great Hall rather noisily, miraculously managing not to hit any of the house elves popping about all around her. "Harry!"

"Tonks," Harry said, please at having something to do. "What's up?"

"McGonagall's waiting in my office fire. She wants to see you at Grimmauld Place right now."

"What?"

Tonks's eyes grew so narrow Harry could see it from where he sat. "Right now means the longer we leave the Floo wards down the more danger both Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place are in."

"Oh," Harry said lamely. "Right now."

-----

"Merlin," McGonagall said, as soon as Harry was safely through the fire, with a rather more forceful display of emotion than she usually gave. "It certainly took you long enough, didn't it?"

"I came as soon as I heard you wanted to see me, Professor."

"Not me," McGonagall said sharply. "The Headmaster wants to speak with you."

"Dumbledore? What does he-"

"Come with me," she interrupted, and Harry could only follow her up one flight of stairs and down a hallway before she stopped beside a door Harry did not remember. McGonagall knocked six times rapidly. The door opened from the inside. Holding the knob was Lupin, looking even paler than usual. There was a woman, also, standing beside a bed on the opposite side of the room, who turned as the door was opened. Harry recognized Emmeline Vance, but she looked haggard in a way Harry had not seen from her the few times they had spoken.

She brushed past him on her way out. There was a pause of perhaps three seconds before Lupin did the same. Harry felt himself pushed into the room, and then the door shut behind him.

Lying in the bed was an old man. Harry barely realized that he was Headmaster Dumbledore, for the Headmaster had never looked so frail before. He rarely even looked old. But the man in the bed looked powerless.

"Harry?" asked the Headmaster, moving his head to look down at the doorway. His voice, at least, was strong.

"Headmaster? What..." But Harry had no idea what to say.

"Harry," Dumbledore said again, "Come here."

Finding that he could not think of anything else to do or anything at all to say, Harry obeyed.

"My remaining time may be very small. There are things I must tell you now."

"Professor-"

"This is very important, Harry."

Harry shut his mouth.

"Sirius Black did not have a will. The Black estate is currently in contest. The closest living heir may be either Andromeda Tonks or Draco Malfoy." Dumbledore paused, perhaps only to catch his breath, but Harry thought he might have been considering whether to say what he said next. "This estate has items that Voldemort must not possess, Harry... books which contain magical theory so powerful it could give Voldemort the upper hand permanently. The magic is not evil, Harry, but in his hands it would do terrible things. They must be destroyed."

"But I-"

"Minerva will manage it, Harry, but should anything happen you must carry it out. Do not try to use these magics, Harry. If he learns of you using them, he will do anything he can to learn them himself, even if he must tear them from your mind."

Harry did not relish that idea.

"I must tell you something of magic, though, that has not yet been taught in your classes. There are dozens of kinds of magic, Harry. Some of them have names. Every wizard has a magical talent of some sort, Harry. Every wizard is special. It is the presentation of our inner uniqueness. Sometimes this takes a form we can not completely understand. Alastor's magical eye is his. Remus's unfortunate condition is his. For Sybil and Nymphadora, it could not be more obvious. Tom's-" The Headmaster broke off suddenly.

"Professor? Are you all right?"

It was nearly half a minute before the Headmaster spoke again. "No, I'm not, but I have to make do." There was a beat as he remembered his topic. "Listen. We've already discussed what your power is, Harry, you understand?" Harry thought he knew what Dumbledore was talking about, so he nodded. "Tom is your opposite, Harry. Tom's greatest power is fear. Do not be afraid of him, Harry. It will only make him stronger."

"How do I not be afraid of him? He could kill me easy."

Dumbledore smiled, and for a moment his eyes flashed with something near to a twinkle. "In my youth I was often advised to envision my enemies in their underwear to dispel nervousness."

"Professor-"

"There is one last thing, Harry. It is very important. It is why you must trust Severus Snape."

Harry had been waiting a long time to hear this.

"Some of us have the gift and curse of being idealists. Severus does not have that. He prefers to do what he perceives as being in his interests. He has come to understand that if Voldemort were to come to power, his own usefulness and thus his own life-span would become smaller very quickly. If we fail, he will of course pretend to have been on Voldemort's side all along. For now he helps us because he is better off that way."

Harry felt let down. He had rather expected some grand secret. Something like–

"It was not always that way, Harry. At one time he was a good friend of your mother. I don't think she ever knew, because it would have broken her heart to have known, but she broke his heart, Harry. Severus never had the Gryffindor courage to-" Dumbledore stopped abruptly. He groaned more loudly than any of his previous words had been. "Fesch," he slurred, before saying again, "Fetch," only a little more clearly, "Minnnnerrv..."

Harry backed up a couple steps. For two seconds he was paralyzed, and then he called out "Help! We need help!"

McGonagall was through the door in seconds, followed by Lupin. Lupin looked at Harry, who had stopped shouting and was standing utterly still, and pushed him out of the room. The door shut in Harry's face. Then he saw Tonks, who said "Better get you back," and before he knew it he was past the hall, down the stairs, past a woman dressed like a Medi-Witch rushing in the other direction, and through the fire.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Got me," Tonks said. "McGonagall just said to take you back as soon as you were finished. Don't even know what you were finished with."

"He just wanted to talk to me," Harry said. "About..."

"What?" Tonks pressed.

"About... Look, I'll tell you. Just... not now, okay?"

"Fine," said Tonks.

---

Having nowhere else to go, Harry stayed in Tonks's office for the rest of the afternoon. They did not really talk, though Tonks occasionally tossed out comments like "How am I supposed to have a designated patrol route when I don't know where the staircases go?"

Five o'clock had just struck when the fireplace blazed and Minerva McGonagall suddenly appeared in the fire. She did not seem to see Harry. "Tonks?" she said, and Tonks went to the fire.

"Yes?"

"You'd better tell Harry. The Headmaster's... oh, Merlin. He's dead."

Minerva disappeared and the fire went out, but Harry barely noticed. He was overtaken by a sudden feeling of futility. Everyone he loved seemed doomed to death, and Harry could not stop it. Why fate had chosen to take Dumbledore, the kindest man Harry had ever known, was beyond Harry. He felt himself growing angry at the world, and he wanted to lash out.

There was a crackling sound and Harry opened eyes he had not realized he had closed. A loose piece of paper was burning. There was a beat as he watched it, and then he turned his thoughts back to the Headmaster.

The whole office burst into flames.


	8. Knight and Day

I apologize for the delay, readers. I had writer's block and major plot flaws to work out, all while having to deal with packing for college and then heading off to college and then the opening days of college. I did eventually put up a notice saying this had gone on temporary hiatus, though I did not put up my buffer chapter because I wasn't sure how long it would take me to get another one.

Chapter Nine is now finished, though for computer reasons I had to rewrite much of it not once but twice.

This chapter does contain the most prominent Harry/Tonks moment yet - and it's not the beginning.

Just so you all know, the reason this story is moving slowly is because the plot demands it. None of the scenes I have yet included were throwaways. If you try to flip through to the dialogue or to all of the Harry/Tonks moments, you will miss parts.

Oh, and I maintain my warning. This story is not primarily a Harry/Tonks romance, and if you're reading this just for that you should probably read something else. There's a whole lot here besides that, and I reserve the right to develop a totally different romance if necessary.

---

Harry was rooted where he stood for a moment before he comprehended what had happened. It was the flame that shot up his right leg that did it. Then he acted.

The fireplace being directly across the office from the entrance, Tonks was about as far from escape as she possibly could be. Harry was much nearer, until he charged straight into the fire after her.

The sensation of pain was so overwhelming that after a moment his brain simply stopped trying to comprehend it. He charged through the flames - the stray thought reaching his head that if he could just remember the appropriate spells, he could probably execute a rescue without giving himself massive burns - towards where he had last seen Tonks.

Already so much smoke had appeared that he could barely see at all. He reached where he thought she had been, only three or four meters away, and found her on the floor, apparently unconscious. Harry had no idea why she would be unconscious; it did not seem as if anything had hit her, and she had been exposed to the fire's effects only as long as he had.

Harry was not particularly muscular, and Tonks was several inches taller than him, but he managed to lift her up anyway. A few moments later they were out the door.

There was a face in his vision, suddenly. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Then he started to feel the pain again, and he looked down at his arms and realized that his clothes were on fire.

Then he passed out.

---

Harry recognized the Hogwarts Hospital Wing even as he opened his eyes, and some cynical part of him thought it was funny that there had been no moment of uncertainty. He had become so used to it that it was now as recognizable as his own bed.

He looked down and realized that his arms were bandaged, though he felt no pain.

There had been voices, but he had not been paying attention, and they cut off suddenly when he moved. "Harry?" he heard, and turned to look. It was Lupin. Beyond that was another, but without his glasses he could not tell who it was.

An arm reached over from the other side of his bed, waving precisely what he had been looking for. He took them and put them over his eyes, and saw that it was Tonks who had handed him the glasses. Her arms were bandaged also, but she appeared to be in as little pain as he was, and she was smiling - if carefully. "Tonks," he said.

"Good morning," she said. "One o'clock in the morning, specifically."

"You're all right?" he asked.

"She's fine," Harry heard. He turned his head again, and saw that what he had thought was one figure behind Lupin was in fact two, Severus Snape and the speaker, Madam Pomfrey. "Unlike _someone_, her body only went through a burning room once. You and she will both have to remain here at least until tomorrow morning."

"Madam Pomfrey is babying you both again," said Snape. "The treatment for burns took full effect within ten minutes, and you are both capable - or, at least, as capable as you were before - of going about your lives."

"And everyone's always trying to convince me just how skilled and capable Snape is," said Tonks, "So how about we just go along with this and Harry and I can get out of here."

"Harry's burns were worse than yours, Tonks," Lupin placated, "and you convinced Moody that you would be handling his guard while he was here."

Tonks did not look especially pleased about that, but she did not say anything.

"All right," Lupin said. He walked directly to Harry's bed. "Harry, do you remember what happened?"

"I was in Tonks's office, and McGonagall was in the fireplace, and she said Dumbledore was..." Harry paused. "And then the whole room was on fire."

"Harry," Lupin said, "We think you did it."

"I didn't-"

"It was accidental magic, of course, but-"

Snape interrupted. "Most students learn to control their magic in first year, Potter. One would think that by your sixth you would have been competent."

Harry frowned. He had been angry before it had happened, but it did not seem to him that he had caused anything to happen. "I don't think I did it," he said.

"It was you, Harry," Tonks said gently. "Kingsley checked my office. The magic was originally channeled from where you were right at the fireplace."

"Couldn't it have come from the fireplace at me?" Harry said.

"Well, yes, but then you would have been the one knocked out, not me."

Harry thought for a moment about that before deciding his argument was going nowhere. "Sorry," he offered.

"Here," Tonks said, "you just try not to burn down my office again, okay?"

Snape scowled. "You will also, of course, pay for any repairs. I'm sure your father managed to leave you enough money for you to handle that."

"I'm sure he did," Harry said, feeling suddenly cold. "Are you here for a reason besides taking the opportunity to provoke me?"

"Believe it or not, Potter, the world does not revolve around you. I was discussing strategy with Lupin. It was him who insisted that the conversation be held here." Snape turned, the edges of his black cloak sliding across the floor, and left.

"Snape's losing his touch," Lupin said when the door closed behind the Potions professor. "Back when we were in school he used to limit himself to less obvious lies."

"What do you mean?"

"He came in here on his own and said 'I trust the boy didn't get himself permanently injured.'"

Harry was struck by the memory that Lupin had been one of his father's Marauders in ages past. He looked at Tonks. She held her right hand up. "It's true. My jaw dropped so fast it almost dislocated."

Harry laughed at that. He could easily imagine anyone's natural reaction to Snape showing even the smallest bit of compassion. He might have reacted the same way to the news if he had not already had a strange encounter with Snape that made him seem very nearly human.

"Anyway, Harry, your friends were worried about you. They went to McGonagall, who I was speaking with at the time, when you weren't at the ceremony. She gave them a rather condensed explanation of what happened and they, of course, wanted to come down and see you."

"And she told them they couldn't come and made them go back to their respective dormitories," Tonks finished quickly.

"Respective?" Harry asked.

Lupin smiled. "Yes. In addition to the Weasleys and Mister Longbottom, Miss Lovegood was also quite worried. If I'm not mistaken, the Gryffindor team Chasers were also concerned that their team might need a new Seeker."

Harry might have smiled at that concern if Quidditch did not seem so terribly unimportant at the moment. "When can I see them? My friends, I mean."

"When you're discharged you'll be given your class schedule as usual," Lupin said. "I'm afraid that I do have rather urgent business that I only put off so that I could make sure you were all right. It's... Everyone thought McGonagall would take over, but she... I'm sorry." Lupin was gone so fast he seemed to leave an afterimage.

"Hmph," said Madam Pomfrey, before turning to Tonks. "The next time you see Professor Lupin, could you please remind him that some of us at Hogwarts, however much we might sympathize with your cause, are not members of your little underground organization, and have no interest in learning its secrets?"

"Of course," Tonks said, rather more graciously than Tonks was to anyone - though, Harry realized, Madam Pomfrey's manner tended to bring out courtesy in everyone else.

"Very well. It is now nearing one-thirty in the morning, and I have not yet slept. You have agreed to keep guard over Mister Potter, and I trust you will do so. See that my trust is not misplaced."

Harry had never considered where Madam Pomfrey slept before, but judging by the door she took, she must have had a room behind her office.

"Speaking of sleep, Harry," Tonks said, "You look like you haven't been sleeping well. And you just slept for a good six or seven hours just now."

"I'm fine," he said.

Tonks looked away for a long, long time before she spoke again. "Don't say that, Harry. That's not fair. We're all in pain. We've all lost people. Professor McGonagall just lost the man who was a father to her." She seemed to be building up to something now. "Molly Weasley's lost two brothers to... to _him_. Lupin lost the only people who ever called him friends, and yes, one of them was your godfather, and you've lost him and your parents and now - now you've lost - you've lost Dumbledore, too. And you shouldn't disrespect them by lying to us and saying that you're fine."

"Tonks," Harry said calmly, "Fine. I'm not fine. I'm sad and I'm angry. But I'll manage."

"Fine." Then Tonks shrugged and said "But if you'll let me pretend to be Mrs. Weasley for a moment, you do look tired. So get some sleep."

"All right," he said, and closed his eyes.

As he fell asleep, he could have sworn he heard her say "I'll be right here when you wake up."


	9. Lost in the Telling

Well... it looks like I'm definitely going to have to redefine time between chapters during the school year. I plan to keep updating, but I doubt they'll be coming at much more than once a week for the next month and a half(and probably less than that). And after that I'll be working on a totally separate novel project for the month of November in addition to school and certain other commitments. I'll work on this where I can, though.

In any case... slow reviewing for the last chapter. Odd. I love reviews, but I assured everyone that I would not hold the story ransom for them and I won't.

Anyway... on with the chapter.

---

Harry ended up first seeing Ron at breakfast the next morning, sitting precisely where he always sat with a pout on his face that Harry recognized. There was a pile of food, half-eaten, on his plate, and Harry saw that the other half would soon follow the first. Anger never had diminished Ron's appetite.

Seamus Finnigan was sitting next to Ron, in the seat Harry usually took. Harry looked about for Dean Thomas but could not find him. Hermione, obviously, was not present either. Where the new fifth years sat there were at least four absences.

The other years were about as bad off. It looked like about a third of the House was missing. Harry looked over at the Ravenclaw table and found the same situation. The Hufflepuff table was nearly empty. Just about every Slytherin was merrily eating breakfast.

Hagrid had not taken his seat at the staff table, but his absence, along with Professor Trelawney's presence, went almost unnoticed compared to the glaring absence at the Headmaster's seat.

Harry was vaguely aware that nearly everyone in the Hall was staring at him, but he could not look at them. He kept staring at the empty chair right at the head of the magnificent room, and all Harry could think of was the corresponding hole he felt.

Everyone who cares, he thought. It was all he could think. Dead. Dead for me. He became aware of a buzzing feeling inside his skull, and he turned to run.

Something hit him, or perhaps he hit it. There was a great explosive sound, and Harry felt a sudden rush of air. His vision finally caught up with his other senses, and he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt slam into the other side of the Entrance Hall, having flown backwards at least ten meters.

Kingsley stood up easily, and Harry was thankful. The sound of the impact had been rather sickening.

"What the hell just happened?" asked Kingsley.

"I don't know."

"You don't-"

"I just bumped into you, okay?" Harry snapped.

"Yeah," Kingsley said, suddenly distracted. "Get along, then."

That had been rather condescending, but Harry wandered away. He felt suddenly without his appetite, and the thought of dealing with whatever Ron was angry about was nothing more than tiring. He found himself walking up a set of stairs toward the fifth floor and realized his path was taking him back to the Gryffindor Tower.

Spontaneously he redirected toward the Room of Requirement.

Hermione was rather pleased to see him, though it manifested with an expression of annoyance. "Where've you been? It's been more than a day since I talked to anyone, and this room is terrific but it doesn't exactly conjure up terrific conversationalists, Harry-"

"Hermione," he said, realizing she had no means of communication with the outside world but for him.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Dumbledore's dead."

She said nothing. Then a puzzled frown formed on her face. "Pardon?"

"Dumbledore's dead, Hermione."

"Oh," she said. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded, in part wondering why he had chosen to come here.

"This couldn't be a trick or something the Order's playing on You-Know-Who?"

Harry's mind latched onto the odd fact that she had fallen back on the popular nickname that she had abandoned the year before. "It's not."

"Oh," she said.

Harry had nothing to say.

"I'd like - I think I'd like - if you don't mind - to be alone, for a little while."

Harry had only made it a few steps into the room anyway.

---

He had taken up a seat by the unlit fireplace when students filed back in after breakfast. An awful lot of them seemed to be watching Harry even more closely than he had been used to. Harry was reminded of his second year, and of the way in which he had been treated when everyone had been so certain that he had been trying to kill students.

He understood, though. None of them wanted to talk to him. None of them wanted to associate with him. They probably all thought they were in enough danger just by being in Gryffindor with him.

Ginny sat down in the next chair down. "Harry," she said. "You knew about Dumbledore?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "How did you-"

"McGonagall made an announcement at breakfast."

"Oh." Harry thought he should be more communicative, but really had nothing to say. He could tell her about what he had seen of Dumbledore's death, but the truth was that neither he nor she would get anything out of it. He looked at the fireplace, though he felt Ginny's eyes on him.

Thirty seconds passed before Ron walked through the portrait hole. Harry turned to watch him, and Ron's eyes settled on Harry for a moment, but then he just stalked up to the dormitory.

"It's complicated," Ginny said, and Harry remembered where she was sitting. "I didn't get a chance to tell you before. The Ministry paid for all of his Healing, but some of the stuff that happened to his mind is..."

"What?" Harry asked. He needed to know. He felt rather as if he should at least know what had happened to all of the people who had sacrificed for him.

"He was a lot like that when the summer started, but the Healers worked out a couple of treatments. He was mostly better by your birthday, Harry, and then he got back and it was even better for a couple of weeks."

"Yeah?"

"Mum started saying how it would be nice to 'pop on over to the Grangers' house and explain things to them', and the last time I saw him that excited was the Quidditch World Cup." Ginny paused, and her voice shifted from reminiscent to something entirely different. "And then they did go, and the Grangers didn't change their minds. And after that Mum started talking seriously that she thought maybe they were right, and Ron and I should stay home too..."

"What happened?" Harry asked. He found himself sickly fascinated.

"He's fine, physically. He goes through the days just fine as long as he doesn't have to deal with bad news."

"Why's he here, then?"

"This all happened a couple days ago, Harry. Mum thought it would be better to bring him home if something went wrong than to try to send him in late and have him try to catch up with the whole year."

Harry shrugged. He had nothing to say to that. He had nothing to say to any of this, except "I never wanted this for anyone."

"I know you didn't, Harry," Ginny said with a little warmth. Then she stood up abruptly. "Anyway, McGonagall wanted to see you in her office. You missed them distributing schedules."

"Oh." Harry stood up too. "Guess I'll deal with that, then."

"Now?"

Harry shrugged. Live like there's no tomorrow, he thought. "If you see Ron, tell him Hermione's in the Room of Requirement."

"She is?"

"Yeah."

--

"Ah." McGonagall said. Harry had not been sure whether to look for her in the Headmaster's office or the one adjoining her Transfiguration classroom. In the end he had tried the one she had used previously, and he had been right.

The door had been ajar, and Harry had looked inside.

"Potter," she continued, perhaps too calmly. "I have your schedule for you. Classes start tomorrow."

There was a short section of parchment in her hand. Harry walked forward and took it from her. He glanced at it, but she spoke before he could read it.

"Transfiguration's first tomorrow morning, Potter. Don't be late."

"I won't, Professor."

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose, and Harry realized that she looked exhausted. "The funeral will be tomorrow evening. I'll send someone to the common room to fetch you."

Harry frowned. "It won't be public?"

"I'm afraid not," McGonagall said. "Dumbledore's will does clearly state that he wanted a private funeral for his friends."

"I'm not-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter."

Harry shut his mouth.

McGonagall sighed. "Get along, Potter. I've got work to do. We'll talk about electives later."

Just outside of her office was Katie Bell. She looked rather pale, and her hair was unusually unkempt. "Harry!" she said, with more energy than he would have thought she could manage.

"Yeah?"

"I wanted to ask you if you wanted to be Quidditch Captain this year, 'cause you're the best player we've got left."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling not in the least bit surprised, though he had not actually considered the question before. "No."

"You sure?" Katie said, surprised.

"I'm not even sure I want to play."

A moment's pause. Then "That's terrific," Katie said sarcastically. "That's absolutely terrific, Harry. As if we didn't already need two new Chasers, two new Beaters, and a new Keeper."

"There are bigger things than Quidditch," Harry said suddenly, and then he walked away.


End file.
